The Boy Next Door
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: Two neighbors. Two mailboxes right next to each other. They were bound to run into each other eventually.


-The Boy Next Door-

-Hiii! So, here we go, more Minewt. This is an extremely short fic about shy-librarian Newt and really-sexy Minho, living next door to each other. If this seems rushed and not as well-written...that's because it is. :) I was bored and wanted to just write something for fun, and this was what happened! I hope you enjoy it, so let me know what you think ;)-

-Day 1-

The first time Newt met his new next-door neighbor, he was making his way through his perfectly-kept front lawn (Newt had such a neat-freak habit, it wasn't even funny) to his mailbox. Their little black mailboxes were right next to each other, on either side of the cute, white fence that separated their yards. Newt made it to his and pulled it open, humming some song to himself. He wasn't really paying much attention to his neighbor's yard because the house had been for sale for a WHILE now and he assumed that no one had moved in yet.

Imagine his surprise when he heard footsteps in the grass and came face to face with a tall, rather handsome stranger.

The guy spared only a sideways glance and half of a polite smile. He was a whole head taller than Newt (though really, everyone was taller than Newt) and his perfectly-spiked hair was as dark as black silk. His olive skin was flawless, absolutely flawless, and paired wonderfully with those deep, dark-chocolate-brown eyes. As he opened his own mailbox, the early morning light played over the skin his tank top showed and lit up golden pinpricks in his eyes. His body was utterly laced with muscle.

Newt stared, dumbfounded, for about thirty seconds. His shyness often grew to monstrous proportions in front of hot guys, but he managed to get some kind of word out. "...hi."

The Greek god of a guy looked at him, eyebrows raising. Then he smiled disarmingly. "Hi."

He had a voice like hot chocolate and Newt wanted to pour it all over him.

-Day 13-

It was pouring rain and Newt was running desperately through his yard to get to the mailbox. He normally wouldn't have tried this, but he was expecting a letter about his job up at the library (a raise, maybe? news about a promotion? please?) His blonde hair was quickly plastered to his forehead and dripped into his eyes, so he shoved it away impatiently. There was no hope for his favorite, black Fall Out Boy shirt; it was drenched and he'd have to change later.

He stumbled to the mailbox in the semi-darkness the heavy clouds made and fumbled to skid to a halt. He didn't realize that he'd gone too far and went to the wrong mailbox.

He figured it out when he collided with someone's chest.

"Ow!"

"Whoa, hey, are you—?"

Their voices jumbled together as Newt staggered back a step and tripped over his own foot. Gasping, he knew he was going to fall. That was before someone's arm snaked around his waist and caught him. Finding his footing, he waited for the arm to slip away again, which it did. "Thank you," he breathed in a sigh of relief. He looked up. His throat closed up.

There was his lovely neighbor, looking oh-so-lovely indeed with his white, v-necked tee soaked through. It clung to every single ripple of muscle in his chest and washboard stomach. Newt could see EVERYTHING.

"No problem," the guy brushed off the thank-you with a wave of his hand. He ran his hand through his tousled, damp hair, messing it up even more.

Newt watched as the guy reached for his mailbox. He planned on running right back to the house after getting his mail, but something was keeping him here. With the rain pounding down around him, he very awkwardly held out his hand. "Um, I'm Newt," he introduced himself shyly.

The guy glanced at him in surprise, then down at his outstretched hand. Shoving his mail carelessly into his back pocket, he took the hand. His lips curved into the hottest, half-grin. "Minho."

-Day Sixteen-

Newt was leaning back against the fence beside his mailbox, rifling through a pile of envelopes. He could feel the morning sunlight seeping into his back as he sorted through the letters and bills and other things he didn't need.

It only took a moment before those telltale footsteps sounded behind him. And then there came that addictive voice. "Hey, Newt."

Minho always greeted Newt like that now, as though they were old high school friends and not neighbors beginning to get to know each other. Newt secretly liked it. "Hey," he greeted absently, as he continued to skim the envelopes in his hands. His brow furrowed when he came across a blood-red one. There was no return address on it and on the front there were the words THE DRAGON written in spidery ink. "Who's 'The Dragon?'" he muttered to himself.

"Oh—That's me." Minho plucked the envelope away before Newt could even blink. "They must've got the wrong address," he said, shrugging. He stood there like a model in his black T-shirt and Levi's, ripping open the envelope without a second thought.

Newt wrinkled his nose at him. "Why does it say The Dragon on it?" he asked. "Is that your nickname or something?"

A snarky smile twisted itself onto Minho's lips. Dear God, he had dimples. "Something like that." He pulled out the letter and read over it quickly. "Eh, it's from some girl who probably saw me last night. I suspect our college-girl neighbor across the street."

Newt stared at him in disbelief. "A girl who randomly saw you last night sent you a creepy letter?"

Minho lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Well, it wasn't entirely random," he replied, slipping his own mail out of his box. "I mean, lots of girls show up at strip clubs."

Newt stared. And stared. And stared. "I...er..." He shook his head, trying to find his voice. "...you're a stripper?"

Minho glanced at him like he couldn't believe Newt hadn't figured this out by now. "Yeah."

And that was how Newt found out he lived next-door to a stripper.

-Day Twenty-Six-

Newt could not breathe at all. Standing next to his mailbox in the summer heat, he was only capable of gaping like an idiot at his neighbor.

Minho was reading through a letter he'd gotten, humming It's Raining Men under his breath. He wore absolutely nothing but expensive, tight denim riding low on his hips. His dark eyes flicked over the words as he leaned an elbow on the fence, not caring at all that he was completely shirtless. He was lethally gorgeous.

Newt swallowed hard. He couldn't physically deal with Minho showing off his full-blown six-pack in the middle of the day. Clearing his throat, he decided to be friendly. And keep his eyes on Minho's face (not that that helped; Minho's face was pretty attractive too). "So, um," he stammered, "...what's up? Or, er, how's—how's work?" He instantly wanted to shoot himself for asking that question. You could ask NORMAL people that question. Not freaking strippers.

Minho looked up at Newt from under his sooty lashes. He seemed surprised that innocent Newt would ask such a question. But he just flashed this crooked, sexy smirk. "Why don't you come watch me sometime and find out for yourself?" he suggested wickedly. Every syllable flirted.

Newt spluttered for a minute, flushing madly the whole way up his neck. Minho just laughed, a sound that made Newt's toes curl, and leaned across the fence to kiss Newt's forehead. "Did you just...what was...?" Newt couldn't speak.

"You're adorable," Minho remarked, chuckling. He started back to his house, pushing his mail into the back pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans. Glancing back, he winked at Newt over his shoulder.

Newt was pretty sure his heart stopped functioning.

-Day Thirty-

It was nighttime, pitch-black outside, and Newt wasn't sure why he was even standing here. The stars were burning ivory overhead like sparklers, lighting up the velvet sheet of the sky. It was chilly, of course, it always was at this time of night. He was out in his yard, shivering in the charcoal-gray sweater he'd thrown on and with his hands deep in his jeans pockets. The reason he'd come out here was sitting against his fence right in front of him: a very messy-haired Minho who didn't seem to care that he wore ratty old sweatpants in the grass. He was holding a bottle in his hands and his eyes were slightly-foggy. He barely looked up when Newt approached.

Newt broke the silence first. "Um...are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Minho barked a bitter laugh. "I'm fine," he replied sarcastically. "I'm just shucking wonderful." He raised the bottle to his lips and tipped his head back.

"Oh. Okay." Newt shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Did something happen? At all?"

"Why do you ask?" Minho asked in a dead voice.

"Because you're sitting in my yard in the middle of the night."

"Our yards were like, two inches apart. Deal with it."

Newt flinched, hurt. "I just wanted to know if there was something wrong," he mumbled.

Minho released a very long sigh. The wind stirred his ever-perfect hair and tugged at his white tee. "I shucked up," he slurred drunkenly.

Newt blinked. "What happened?"

"Well," Minho began, lifting the bottle again and taking a long swig, "first, this guy showed up at..." He glanced at his shy, angelic neighbor. "...work...and he said he'd give me this—" He stabbed the bottle into the air. "—and this—" He tugged an impressive stack of bills out of his waistband. "—and all I had to do was have sex with him."

Newt felt his heart drop to the ground. He shivered and not just from the cold. "You didn't."

Minho stared into the neck of the bottle. "Don't look at me like that," he mumbled, slowed by the alcohol.

"Minho, why?"

"Thought it'd be worth it."

"Worth what? A hundred bucks and beer?" Newt couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. He'd wanted Minho to be better than this.

"Yup." Minho dropped his head back against the fence. "A hundred bucks and beer, and I gave him my goddamn virginity," he drawled, waving the bottle for emphasis. He suddenly pointed it at Newt. "Don't even think about commenting on me being the only virgin stripper in the whole damn world." He brought the bottle up to his face.

Newt leaned down and snatched it away. Ignoring Minho's halfhearted groan of complaint, he chucked it onto the grass. Then he sat himself down beside his drunk neighbor and looped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he apologized, though what for, he didn't know.

Minho grunted like he didn't care. But he was leaning into Newt anyway.

-Day Thirty-Five-

"Isaac Newton," Minho greeted, sauntering up to their mailboxes like he always did. His unfairly-white teeth flashed in his rakish grin. "How are you doing on this fine Friday?"

Newt slanted a sideways look at him and arched a brow. "Fine," he replied uncertainly.

"Awesome." Minho flicked open his mailbox and drew out the waiting envelopes. As he looked through them, Newt couldn't help but sneak glances over at him. Minho had apparently gotten over his drunken depression from the other night because he was as cheerful and flirtatious as always. He looked damn good in his too-tight T-shirt, advertising Fall Out Boy. Newt was instantly in love.

He was taken by surprise when Minho spoke up again. "I always knew, you know."

Newt jerked back to reality. "Knew what?" he asked dumbly.

Minho didn't look up from his mail, but his grin turned devilish. "That we get the mail at the same time because you like to check me out," he answered lightly.

Newt's face burned up at once in embarrassment. "That's not...No I don't."

"Yes, you do, you're staring at me right now." Minho seemed to be enjoying himself. He turned his dazzling smile on Newt. "Why d'you think I wore Fall Out Boy today? I know you like them."

"...you're crazy."

"Crazily sexy."

"Ugh."

"Newt, don't even deny that you're into me."

"Why're we having this conversation?"

"Because I'd like to take you out on a date tonight."

Newt stopped himself from retorting his next sentence. He gaped at Minho in shock. "Are you...asking me out?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Minho replied, shrugging. Then he smirked evilly. "Unless you wanna skip the whole dating part and just kiss me."

Newt just looked at him. What a tease Minho was. What an utterly perfect tease. "Fine," Newt decided unexpectedly. Faster than he thought he could move, he grabbed the front of Minho's shirt and pressed their mouths together.

Minho froze in shock. But he quickly got over it. He dropped everything he was holding and wrapped his arms around Newt's waist. Pulling the blonde flush against him, he kissed back hard. Newt's head was spinning and his heart was cartwheeling. Minho kissed with no shame whatsoever, parting his lips and teasing Newt with reckless sweeps of his tongue. They were gasping against each other in broad daylight, all tongue and teeth and the tangle of limbs. When Newt finally broke it for air, he could barely believe he'd just done that.

Minho chuckled at the blonde's dreamy eyes and rubbed their noses together. "You're such a nerd," he snickered, sliding his hands up Newt's back. "But you're also a hell of a kisser."

Newt rolled his eyes. "How nice, calling the librarian a nerd."

"Some librarians are pretty hot."

"Name one."

"The one I'm holding..."

"Oh, shut up, Minho. ...We can still go on a date, right?"

"Absolutely."


End file.
